


Sorry

by moosefangirl



Category: South Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosefangirl/pseuds/moosefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan had definitely learned two things that day: </p>
<p>One, Kenny was a strong individual and Stan was really glad they were friends.</p>
<p>Two, Don't ever wish for something that an Antichrist has no objections filling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, the boys are around 17 years old. I've given Damien some over powered bull, like hearing wishes in a certain radius from his location. Just go with it? I wanted Damien to be the one to grant the wish, since I think it would grant him a lot of pleasure seeing how tortured Stan's soul becomes. Enjoy :)

Big blue eyes stared at the blank ceiling through the darkness, as if by some magical property, it would help him fall asleep. Once again, Stan Marsh couldn't embrace the sweet relief of sleep and he was bordering on insanity from lack of it. Something was bothering him, though unlike all the other times he couldn't sleep, and his eyes studied the darkness for an answer.

His friends, Kyle and Kenny, were sleeping peacefully in the same room, both spread out on the floor in sleeping bags. He could hear Kyle's peaceful snores and Kenny's fitful groans and sighs as he tossed and turned in his own sleep. Stan's mind once again wondered back to what had happened earlier that day, and what was now keeping him from blissful, hopefully peaceful sleep.

The trio had spent most of the afternoon playing video games and throwing back a few beers that were warm from being hidden under his bed for a few weeks. However, any time Kenny saw someone's character die, Stan would notice a slight wince or cringe. It was something that he had never noticed before; something he needed to talk to the boy about. If something was bothering his friend, he needed to know what it was and if he could help. That was just the kind of person Stan Marsh was.

“What the fuck, dude,” he recalled Kenny saying after Stan had asked what was going on, “Why were you even looking in the first place?”

“I don't fucking know, dude. It just drew my attention. Now what the fuck is up? Obviously something you're not telling us since you're cringing over a video game that has never seemed to bother you before,” the black haired boy had reiterated, cocking an eyebrow at the blonde.

“Yeah, dude, this isn't like you. Tell us what's up,” Kyle had mirrored and they both waited patiently for Kenny's answer.

Kenny sighed as his head drooped a bit, his fists clinching as he whispered, “You're not going to fucking believe me.”

“Dude just tell u-”

“Fucking...Fine! Alright,” Kenny huffed, his icy blue eyes finally piercing Stan's own. The blonde looked to be swallowing a knot in his throat, before he asked, “Do you remember when we were kids and we would play superheros?”

“Yeah dude, everyone's costumes and super personas were fucking lame with the exception of your own,” Stan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Why?”

“Well, if you may remember, Mysterion's one power was he couldn't die.”

“Right, well get on with it,” Stan heard Kyle mutter, and he could tell the Jewish boy's patience, which was not so much unlike his mother's, was running thin.

“Fuck, well,” Kenny hissed and bit his lip, “That wasn't just a kid's pipe dream. Countless times I've died, and came back to life. All because my stupid parents went to some dumb cult meetings when they were pregnant with me. I fucking remember everything. I remember getting shot, hanged, decapitated, run over, mauled and shanked, and neither of you, or any of our other childhood friends remember a god-dammed thing. I have to live, every day with the knowledge of what it's like to die and the people I fucking love the most never seem to give a fucking damn!”

Stan watched as Kenny exploded during the middle of his speech and his face turned down into a frown. Was he even telling the truth? Was this a cruel joke? He had been really worried for his friend's well being and the blonde wasn't even taking it seriously. However, as the dark haired boy searched into his friend's eyes for the truth, he couldn't help but feel that this...whatever the hell it is, was the truth.

“And you know what,” Kenny seethed, “It fucking hurts! It hurts to die. I feel every god-dammed second of it. Sometimes I end up in heaven, sometimes I end up in hell. But I remember every single second of what happens. And to have people like you, people that I love, tell me that I'm making it up...hurts the god-dammed most.” And finally it was done. Kenny turned his head away and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Stan and Kyle exchanged looks as they watched their friend turn away to cool down. They had no reason not to believe him, even though the entire thing seemed a little too far-fetched to be the truth. Just as the dark haired boy was about to console their friend, his mom called for them to tell them that the pizza had arrived. The conversation was soon in the back of all three young boy's minds as they raced down the stairs for that cheesy deliciousness.

The rest of the night was spent how it began, though, Kenny refused to play any more violent video games. And one by one, they other two boys went to bed, until Stan was left to think on what the blonde boy had said. Looking out of the window by his bed, the dark haired boy sighed and thought aloud, though quietly, “I wish that I knew the full truth. I wish I could fully know what Kenny was feeling. Then, maybe I could help him.”

Feeling the sweet bliss of sleep start to wave her warm fingers over his body, Stan let it claim him and he fell into a deep sleep. However, his wish didn't go unnoticed; for a certain young Antichrist was bored and needed a fair bit of fun. As he sat on his chair in a dark room, smirk came to his lips, “Very well Stan Marsh. You'll learn very quickly how your friend feels.” A wave of his hand as eyes glowed deep crimson and Stan's dreams were plagued with his wish...the truth.

 

* * *

 

“Hold it right there you punk,” He could hear behind him. Stan was running, running from some unknown enemy. He leaped over a fence and turned just in time to see a bullet hitting him square in the chest. He could feel searing, sharp pain and he could feel his body hit the ground. He felt his soul leave his body and then he woke up in his bed, head hurting.

“That was weird,” he groaned, hopping from his bed and taking a cold shower. Once he was done, he went out to meet his friends to walk to school together. On his way to school, while he was talking to Kyle, a car flew out of the road and ran him completely over. He could feel every bone in his body breaking as he screamed and died. Once again, he felt his soul being ripped from his body and then he was awake in his bed the next day. And, once again, his head was hurting.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, looking down at his hands. Stan flexed them a bit, his breathing unsteady. He took yet another cold shower and started to walk out to school with his friends. The day went smoother than the last, until they were walking home, that is. In some sort of freak accident, a tree started to fall, right towards Kyle. Stan leaped forward and pushed him out of the way before feeling himself being crushed. His soul was, yet again ripped from his body and he could see a bright light. And, yet again, he woke up in his bed, his head throbbing.

“Dude,” Stan started as he caught up to Kyle as they were walking to school, “Do you even remember yesterday?”

“We had a lot of homework and you went to finish it,” the redhead said nonchalantly, and Stan stopped in his tracks.

“What about the day before yesterday?”

“What with the sick car crash? Yeah, I'm glad no one got hurt.”

Stan had to almost do a double take. Was his friend lying about not remembering? Was Kyle joking? If so this wasn't funny. However, before Stan could even retort, they were at school and he was late for class.

 

* * *

 

With a sudden jolt and gasp for breath, Stan shot up in his bed, grasping his chest. He grabbed his phone to see that it was the next day and he had only been dreaming. Placing the phone back down, he looked over to see Kenny and Kyle still blissfully unaware of his night terrors. He'd experienced death over and over and over again in his dream and was forced to see each one of his friends forget that it ever happened. He went to heaven, and he went to hell. There were even places he'd never heard of before that he went to when his soul was ripped from his body.

A text notification on his phone jarred him from his thoughts, and he grabbed the device slowly. It was from an unknown number, though the language was familiar.

 

From Unknown:

_Mortal, I have fulfilled thy wish for one night, for reasons of my own. You do not have to thank me, your torment was thanks enough. However, maybe you'll be able to help your friend now._

 

Stan shook his head as he deleted the message and got up to splash his face with cold water. He was still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt from yesterday, a common thing for him since he'd always forget to change before he passed out in the bed. As he dried his face, he looked at his face in the mirror. It had been just a dream, but every death, every time his soul was ripped from his body, it felt real. It fucking hurt!

Gasping a bit, Stan realized what this meant. He had been placed in Kenny's shoes for just one night. Biting his lip, he heard stirring in his bed room. Quietly walking back into the room, he saw that Kenny was sitting on his bed and Kyle was just now sitting up from the floor. As Kyle yawned, Stan quickly crossed the room and wrapped the blonde in a tight hug.

“Stan, what are yo-”

“I'm so fucking sorry, Kenny,” Stan started, choking back tears as he gripped onto his friend tightly, “I had no fucking clue. I shouldn't have pried, and I should've believed you. I'm so fucking sorry.”

It took Kenny a few moments before he hugged Stan back, his face tight against the slightly taller boy's shoulder. He had to hold back his own tears, as he whispered, “It's okay, Stan.” The blonde stood there for a moment as the dark haired boy kept his grip tight. Kyle was really confused watching the scene unfold before him, but he couldn't help but guess what Stan had gone through most of the night. The redhead always ended up waking up a few times in the night to adjust his back and use the bathroom, and last night, Stan had been grunting and whimpering in his sleep.

Finally, Stan relinquished his grip on Kenny and he looked the other boy in the eyes as he said, “I can't promise you that I'll remember exactly how you die, since I'm sure that's a part of your curse, but I promise to always listen and believe and be there for you.”

Kenny stood there for a moment, a sign of gratitude in his eyes, before a mischievous smirk spread over his lips, “That's really fucking gay, Stan.” Stan laughed and playfully punched the blonde in the shoulder, before Kyle joined in on the laughter. The dark haired boy had definitely learned two things that day:

One, Kenny was a strong individual and Stan was really glad they were friends.

Two, Don't ever wish for something that an Antichrist has no objections filling.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, there's no set amount of times Stan dies in his dream, though when I wrote this, I imagined it to be a good bit. 30 give or take. I just didn't want to write them all out.


End file.
